Not This Year
by Jake Nickleby
Summary: When a loss occurs at Foster's, everyone realizes how hard Mac is taking it.
1. Broken Clocks Or Not

Disclaimer: All characters and events related to _Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends _are owned by Craig McCracken and Cartoon Network Studios.

* * *

Currently looking for Cover Art commissions.

* * *

Chapter One: Broken Clocks (or Not)

Blooregard Q. Kazoo was pissed off. His best friend promised he would come by at three o'clock to visit. The blue blob of an imaginary friend paced back and forth in the room, nervously glancing at the wall clocks every five seconds. Glancing at the wall clocks again, he noticed that every clock read 4:28 P.M.

"Mac's an hour and a half late," Bloo muttered worriedly. "Why isn't he here yet?"

Four years ago, Bloo's creator made a promise to visit him every day at three o'clock. Mac had never broken that promise, excluding the time when Mac's older brother, Terrance had locked him in a closet. So why should he not show up today? Bloo left the room to search for a certain Frances Foster.

"FRANKIE!" he screamed, going up and back down a flight of stairs.

Walking into Mr. Herriman's office, he spotted the red-haired girl on the telephone. Bloo glided over to the young woman, and began to pester her.

"Frankie…" he whispered, tugging on the back of her green hooded jacket. Ignoring the imaginary friend, she continued to speak on the phone in a soft, gentle voice.

"No, I understand. Yes, you may come over to drop it off."

Bloo's eyebrows furrowed, his arms crossed over his chest, and he started to tap his foot noisily. He had a small tolerance for patience. The 26-year-old could care less, as she carried on her conversation on the phone.

"Yes, I'll see you then. Goodbye." She hung up the phone, and turned to the annoying imaginary friend.

"What, Bloo? What could be so important that you had to interrupt me during a phone call?"

"Are you sure the clocks aren't broken?" Frankie took a huge exaggerated sigh, and cocked her head back slightly to stare up at the ceiling.

"For the last time, Bloo, I'm sure that all the clocks are working." She straightened her head and leaned against the large desk behind her.

Without moving, she glanced down at Bloo. "Mac's not here, huh?"

She took a deep breath and stared out a window sadly. "I have a good idea why he didn't show up today."

She looked at Bloo again. "I'll give him a call, okay? Then we'll see if we can go visit him."

"Really?" Bloo asked enthusiastically. "Frankie, you rock!" he exclaimed, jumping up onto her and giving her a quick, rare hug. The blue blob jumped down and headed out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

End of Chapter One

* * *

28 August 2007


	2. Chaos in Mr Herriman’s Office

For disclaimer on _Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends_, please refer to chapter one.

* * *

Currently looking for Cover Art commissions.

* * *

Chapter Two: Chaos in Mr. Herriman's Office

The clock struck five as Bloo sat on the couch lazily, watching television with a plastic bowl full of potato chips. He felt his eyelids beginning to droop. Boredom had made him very sleepy. Suddenly, a sharp ringing of the house's doorbell startled Bloo awake, and causing him to knock the potato chip bowl off of his lap.

Staring at the scattered chips on the floor, he decided to ignore cleaning it up, and instead he walked over to the room's exit, stepping on some chips in progress. He poked his head through the jarred door, and saw Frankie talking to a dark-skinned man and a fair-skinned woman with dark red hair and freckles at the front door. Beside Frankie stood a sad-looking imaginary friend. It was in a shape of a deflated life preserver with stick-thin arms and legs, and small, broken wings.

"She probably tried to imagine something that could save her," the man told Frankie, who looked stunned, "but it was too late. She couldn't think of it fast enough, and got entangled in the tarp." Tears started to form in all three adults' eyes. "She drowned quickly," the man manage to finish.

"We also called her good friend to let him know what happened," the woman added as she adjusted her grip on the handles of a plastic box she held in her arms. "He didn't take it very well." She handed the butterfly sticker-decorated box to the young Foster. "This is stuff she would probably wanted him to have. Would you please give this to him?"

"Certainly," Frankie replied. "And I'm so sorry for your loss. We will miss her terribly." As the couple left, Frankie carried the violet-colored box to a stairwell step and set it down. She sat down beside it, and loosely placed one hand over her mouth. Tears started to form in her eyes again.

"Frankie," Bloo called out, coming out of the room. "Could you call Mac now?" Frankie recomposed herself.

"Yeah, let's get going." Picking up the box, she carried it while leading Bloo and the lonesome imaginary friend the couple had dropped off into Mr. Herriman's office. Frankie set the box down on the desk, and picked up the phone.

Bloo stood behind her, watching her dial Mac's number. Bloo's face lit up when he heard, "Hey, Mac. It's Frankie." Then his lit-up face faded away when he heard, "Once you get this message, could you give me a call back at Foster's? Thanks." He had hoped that Mac was really there on the other end of the phone line.

As Frankie hung up the phone, she and Bloo heard the tap tapping of a cane making its way across the hall, closer and closer to the office. "Mac won't be coming today," Madame Foster called as she slowly made her way into the room. "He had called earlier to let us know that he'll be unable to visit for the rest of this week. Mr. Herriman is aware of his absence, so no need to worry, dearie."

"THE WHOLE WEEK?" Bloo screamed, "WELL, WHERE IS HE? IN SINGAPORE?" Frankie kneeled down to Bloo and put her hand on his shoulder. "Bloo, calm down. Everything's going to be okay."

"OKAY? OKAY? WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON?" He pointed to the lonely imaginary friend sitting in an armchair. "WHO'S THE NEW GUY?" Then he pointed to the plastic bin on the desk. "WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH THE BOX? AND WHY ISN'T MAC HERE?" He began to hyperventilate.

"Oh, sh…" Frankie muttered as she quickly searched for a brown paper back in one of the desk drawers. Luckily, she found one and put it to Bloo's mouth. "Breathe, Bloo! Don't freak out!" Thankfully being able to calm him down, Frankie had him sit in the armchair next to the deflated life preserver.

"Is everything alright?" asked an extremely tall creature, poking his head into the room.

"Wilt!" Frankie called, "Perfect timing!" She led the newest addition to Foster's home over to the basketball-loving friend. "Could you do me a favor and get this guy fixed up, then give him a tour of the place for me?"

"Sure, Frankie."

"Thanks, Wilt."

The young Foster shut the door behind the two friends, and turned to see her grandmother patting Bloo on the back of his hand. "It's alright, dearie. Mac's just going through a rough patch. He'll be back soon."

"Like, what is _that_ suppose to mean? When is he really going to be back? For all that we know, that could be a whole eternity away!" Bloo shouted, although a lot more relaxed now. Madame Foster smiled, and guided the blue blob out of the room. Frankie shifted awkwardly. After everything she could think of, she was still unsure how to reason with Bloo.

* * *

End of Chapter Two

* * *

29 August 2007


	3. Telephone Calls & Laundry Watching

For disclaimer on _Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends_, please refer to chapter one.

* * *

Currently looking for Cover Art commissions.

* * *

Chapter Three: Telephone Calls and Laundry Watching

Frankie nearly collapsed on the desk, and took a huge, deep sigh. Whether if it was a sigh of relief or distress, she could not tell. The phone rang, and Frankie answered it, even though she was in no mood to deal with phone calls or anything for that matter. "You've reached Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, this is Frankie Foster speaking."

"Frankie," she heard a rough, depressed whisper.

"Mac," she responded, readjusting the phone against her ear. She waited for a response, but after a certain amount of time of silence, she continued as she sunk into an armchair, "We're all worried about you…" She heard a faint shuttering of breath. "Bloo especially. You gave him a good scare."

"Sorry. I should've told him that I wasn't coming."

"No, Mac, that's okay. It wasn't your fault." She bit her lip. "Mac, I know how it is losing someone really close."

There was no response.

"Mac…"

More silence.

"Sorry. I just can't…" Then Frankie heard a click, then a dial tone.

"Mac!" she yelled in the receiver, as she bolted up in her seat. She sighed, and put the phone back on the hook.

"I'd wish you'd tell me how you're feeling… I really do know what you're going through."

* * *

Half an hour past, one hour, two hours… Frankie was not sure. She was too busy with all the work she had to do to tell how much time has really past. Though honestly, her chores seemed rather leisurely today. With a thousand thoughts buzzing through her head, chores had somehow kept her relaxed.

Frankie carried a white, plastic laundry basket full of freshly pressed clothes against her left hip. Hearing the clocks chime six o'clock, she realized it was not as late as she thought it was. After all, the days were getting longer, though it still seemed to be surreal for it to be light out at this hour.

As she past by a large window, she looked outside. Watching the land behind the house, the last bit of sun had just disappeared behind the mountains. What caught her attention was the familiar figure sitting on the pool's diving board, slowly rocking back and forth with his knees drawn to his chest. Frankie gave a small, sad smile. She was glad that Mac had decided to come by today.

She stood there, watching him a bit, rocking back and forth, until she saw him purposefully fall into the ice cold water. "Mac, no!" she yelled, dropping the basket to the floor.

* * *

End of Chapter Three

* * *

30 August 2007


	4. Not This Year

For disclaimer on _Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends_, please refer to chapter one.

* * *

Currently looking for Cover Art commissions.

* * *

Chapter Four: Not This Year

Mac stared at the cold, crisp sky as he walked to Foster's. He had no idea how he managed to get himself out of bed, let alone out of the apartment. On one hand, he wanted to see his friends. On the other hand, he just wanted to be left alone. He glanced at his watch. It was a quarter to six. He decided to wander around the back of the house before going inside.

Walking over to the pool, he looked up at the large ladder in front of him, and started to climb it. Sitting down on the edge of the diving board, he hugged his knees to his chest, and started to rock himself back and forth in a bored manner. He mulled over the events that occurred in the past few days, then suddenly he thought of nothing except for the dark water. What was it like to be in there?

He leaned slowly forward. Slowly, slowly, until he leaned far enough over. As he let himself sink slowly further in the icy cold water surrounding him made his felt at peace. Just two minutes inside the pool seemed like a blissful eternity. Suddenly, he felt being jerked upwards, and was pulled out of his bittersweet paradise.

As he was brought up to surface and back onto the diving board, he shoved away the creature who had rescued him.

"YOU SAVED ME!" he screamed angrily. "WHY DID YOU SAVE ME? WHY COULDN'T YOU SAVE _HER_?"

He wrapped his arms around himself and started to sob hysterically. The life preserver-shaped friend, all fixed up, hung its head in shame.

"Mac!" Frankie called, as she and Wilt ran over and climbed up the ladder. Mac sat there, soaking wet, with his arms clutched at his sides.

"It's not fair," he sobbed.

Frankie turned to Wilt. "Let's get him inside," she told the tall figure in a low voice. Wilt scooped up the crying twelve-year-old and brought him inside the house.

* * *

Mac sat in front of the large fireplace with an enormous wool blanket wrapped around him. The dry clothes he had borrowed were slightly big on him. He stared at the fire flickering as Frankie walked into the room with a mug full of hot chocolate and mini marshmallows. "Your clothes are in the wash now. It'll be done and dried in a hour or so." Mack took a sip of his hot chocolate, wanting to thank the older girl, but could not manage to say anything.

"Mac, hear me out. I know how you feel. I lost my parents at a very young age. They went to a Christmas party, and I stayed here with Grandma. They got into a car accident on their way back home…" She cleared her throat.

"When I heard that they died, I couldn't think straight. I'm not sure if I even understood. I was barely two years old! As I got older, it got harder for me not knowing my parents. It was so hard for me to accept that they were gone."

Frankie blinked back a few tears, remembering when she was going through a difficult time without her parents at the age of fifteen, running up and down the street, as if she could escape her pain and fear. She ran until she could not run anymore, collapsing onto the sidewalk.

Mac continued to stare at the fireplace while sipping his hot chocolate.

"Valentine's Day was her favorite holiday," he finally spoke.

Frankie sighed silently. Valentine's Day was in three days.

"She said she had planned something special this year," he continued.

"Mac," Frankie sighed. "There's something I need to give you."

He looked up at her curiously before Frankie stood up to leave the room, coming back with the butterfly sticker-decorated, violet-colored plastic bin.

"Her mom said this is yours now," the young woman explained.

Mac put down his now empty mug and opened up the top. Inside was a small cardboard box wrapped with a red ribbon tied in an imperfect bow and pink hearts scattered on the paper. The tag had his name on it, and so he untied the ribbon and ripped off the wrapping paper. Lifting off the box top, he discovered a homemade scrapbook. He opened the book and saw picture after picture of him and his friends.

The note taped to the inside cover was the first gift she had ever gave him. It read, "To Mac, Thanks for being so nice to me all the time. Your friend, Goo."

He slammed the scrapbook's cover shut, and stood up, letting the blanket fall to the floor. Walking out of the room, Mac went up to the portrait room, looking up at the endless rows of pictures hanging high on the wall.

"P-please tell me you'll be taking those down," he said in a quivering voice, eyeing twelve framed _Friend of the Month_ photos, all of which showed the same smiling girl.

"Mac…" the young woman started. "I know you really wouldn't want that… _She_ wouldn't want that."

"I just can't take it anymore," the twelve-year-old muttered.

"We should be honoring her death," Frankie added.

"She shouldn't be dead at all!" he yelled angrily. "You're not suppose to die when you're fourteen!"

His head hung to the ground. "F-Frankie, I just want to be by myself right now."

She sighed. "I'll drive you home."

* * *

Rain began to pour down heavily on the sidewalk. Mac dragged the purple bin up the stairs of his apartment complex, creating scratches at the bottom of the surface. Pushing his way into his building, and into his bedroom, Mac deliberately dropped the heavy box to the floor. With his oversized, clean clothes soaked with rain, he climbed onto the lower layer of the bunk bed.

Clinging tightly to the Valentine-theme scrapbook, he stared at a photograph of himself and the dark-skinned girl with freckles and braided black hair.

"Goo," he sobbed, tears pouring down his cheeks. He clutched the picture with shaky hands, until he cried himself to sleep.

* * *

End of Chapter Four

* * *

Author's Note: This chapter and story was inspired by the song _Not This Year_, written and performed by Alyson and Amanda Joy Michalka (also known as Aly & A.J.).

* * *

10 September 2007


	5. AdoptaFlashback

For disclaimer on _Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends_, please refer to chapter one.

* * *

Currently looking for Cover Art commissions.

* * *

Chapter Five: Adopt-a-Flashback

"This is going to be the biggest Adopt-a-Thought Saturday that we've ever had!" Goo said excitedly as she flopped onto the bed, pulling off her yellow puffy vest she wore over the long sleeved, cream-colored thermal shirt that was decorated with rainbow hearts. Sitting at the edge of the bed, Mac unlaced his shoe ties, and kicked them onto the floor.

"Good thing, too," he replied. "The house is overstuffed with friends! Frankie was nice enough to let us sleep in her bed while she spends the night at her boyfriend's place."

Goo giggled, resting her head on the fluffy, white pillow. "Maybe we should do something nice for her in return…"

"Uh, Goo? I think staying overnight for the Adopt-a-Thought preparations so that Frankie can actually _go_ see her boyfriend calls us even."

"True that!" the fourteen-year-old girl hollered.

"Well, anyway, with you running show tomorrow, I have no doubt in my mind that this will be the most awesome Adopt-a-Thought." She smiled.

"Thanks, Mac," she said, rolling over in bed. "It's cool I get to spend the whole day with everybody before I go to visit my relatives in Wisconsin. Hey, did you know my relatives have a pool at their house? I bet it's so frozen around this time of year, you could stand on it!"

"Goo," Mac said with concern. "That doesn't sound like a good idea. The ice will probably be too thin to be able to stand on." She blew a raspberry at him.

"You take the fun out of everything, you know? Don't be such a worry wart, Mac. Besides, I've got something special planned for Valentine's Day next week. Prepared to be amazed!" Mac laughed internally, and then instantly fell fast asleep.

* * *

Mac felt like he was slowly coming out of a black fog. He took a sharp intake of breath, suddenly discovering how difficult it was for him to breathe. Wrapped around his face and placed up his nose was a plastic tube. A stream of oxygen flowed through the tube and into his assortment of tubes and needles were hooked to his arms, underneath the cheap cotton tee shirt he wore were wires with sticky pads were stuck onto his chest, and the only sound Mac could hear was a faint, electronic beeping. The noise was continuously beating steadily. Keeping his eyes halfway open, he turned his head slightly towards the closed door, hearing murmured voices.

"I don't know… He just stopped eating…"

"And no one noticed that he hadn't eaten in a week?"

"I guess that's because we never get to have family dinners together…"

"Not to mention that his severe case of pneumonia increases the problem…"

Mac blinked, trying to focus on the calendar pinned to the wall across the room. Though no matter how much he tried to strain his eyes, the object stayed blurry. Yet, he could make out the thick, red pen marks. Each day of the month that had past were crossed off. Quickly scanning the calendar, Mac noted that the date was exactly one week since Valentine's Day. More than a week since Goo's death.

His eyes fully closed, letting the black fog engulf him.

* * *

End of Chapter Five

* * *

10 September 2007


	6. Terrence

For disclaimer on _Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends_, please refer to chapter one.

* * *

Currently looking for Cover Art commissions.

* * *

Chapter Six: Terrence

Mac reopened his eyes, repeating the observation process he did the last time he had woken up. Except this time there was someone sitting in a chair next to his bed.

"Hey," the person said in a low, rough voice. It had been the same voice that he heard before, from outside the room. Mac turned his head as much to his ability. He could make the general outline of his older brother. The twelve-year-old laid still until he gained enough strength to sit up.

"Um, I got a new video game for you…" the older boy said, handing the portable game console to Mac.

"Thanks, Terrence…" he muttered. Staring at the game his hands silently, clenched his jaw, wondering what to say.

After a near-death experience at the age of fourteen, Mac's older brother had turned his life around. His personality changed, his grades got better, and he even got better looking. Probably due to the loss of his punk attitude. Still, even after Terrence started to act a little nicer, Mac found it hard to talk to his brother.

The seventeen-year-old cleared his throat. "Mac, I know about your friend." The younger boy whipped his head around. His eyes glazed over, realizing that his brother had known about Goo's death as long as he did.

"No! No!" he remembered crying on the phone when Goo's parents tried to calmly break the news to him. Terrence must had overheard the whole conversation.

"I knew it was hard for you, but I didn't think that it would end up—" he gestured to the numerous tubes attached to the small boy. "Like this." Mac hung his head as Terrence fumbled for something in his back pocket.

"There's something else I need to give you…" He handed Mac an ivory envelope. Tearing the seal open, the boy read the letter contained inside.

"It's an invitation…" he said, looking at each word carefully. "To a memorial service."

"So soon?" Terrence asked.

"In a few weeks," Mac answered in a shaky voice.

"Oh," came a faint response. He crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned into his chair. "So, are you going to go?"

* * *

End of Chapter Six

* * *

Author's Note: Wonder what happened to Mac's older brother? Why he's so nice? What was his near-death experience? Find out Terrence's story in an upcoming fanfiction!

* * *

10 September 2007


	7. We Will Always Be Friends

For disclaimer on _Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends_, please refer to chapter one.

* * *

Currently looking for Cover Art commissions.

* * *

Chapter Seven: We Will Always Be Friends

Mac exited the building, loosening the black tie her wore around his neck. The memorial had ended a while ago, and he was the last guest to leave. Stepping out at the edge of the curb, he looked up and down the street. Empty. Just parked cars, green lawns, white houses, and sunny blue skies with fluffy clouds.

It was an informal service. The invitation called for a rainbow attire, however Mac had nothing rainbow in his wardrobe. Even if he did, he probably would wear the same thing he was wearing now. A black suit. A lot of people scowled at him today for wearing black, but how could he bring himself to wear any color at a time of mourning?

Opening his fingers, he looked down at the tiny glass vile, strung on a thin black leather band, in the center of his palm. Inside were a few grey specks. That was her, he understood. She was inside of there.

Clutching the vile again, Mac held it close to his chest. It was the one last thing that made him feel like he was close to her. The one last thing that made him feel like she was still there with him. Mac was even sure he could still hear Goo's voice, her laughter, her need to talk as if her voice was a car driving one hundred miles per minute on a highway.

He collapsed to his knees and shut his eyes. "Akimba kee rucksack," he heard a faint mutter.

"W-what?" he whispered back as he opened up his eyes. The street was completely empty as it was before. Mac was not imagining her voice. He actually heard it. Right next to his ear.

"Duh, Mac. You know you carry your books in it." He blinked once, and slowly opened up his eyes, finding himself lying on a bed with frizzy braided black hair in his face.

Mac bolted up from the bed and stared at the figure lying next to him. "Goo…" he whispered, barely audible. He remembered now that he and Goo spent the night at Foster's, preparing for another Adopt-a-Thought Saturday this coming weekend. Because of the recent overcrowding issue, and since Frankie spent the night at her boyfriend's house, Mac and Goo had shared Frankie's bed.

The fourteen-year-old girl flipped from lying on her left side to her right side. "Hey, Mac, was I, like, talking in my sleep again, because my mom says that I do-"

"Goo…" he whispered again, tears rolling down his cheeks. She sat up, putting in a yellow puffy vest over the long sleeved, cream-colored thermal shirt- decorated with rainbow hearts- she had worn to bed. Mac looked down at his layered tee shirt and khaki cargo pants. Tugging at his shirt, he realized that they had slept in their clothes from the previous day.

"Uh, Mac? What are you crying for? Because people usually don't cry for no reason…"

It was a dream. It was all a dream. Goo's death, the hospital, the memorial service… Just a dream. Then why did it feel so real? Mac swallowed. "I had a dream that you were…" He paused. Should he really tell her what it was about? "That we weren't friends anymore," he finished, half-lying.

"Phft," she puttered her lips together. "That's stupid, Mac. We'll always be friends."

He leaned over and gave her a small, yet loving kiss. "Promise that we'll be friends forever?"

"Okay, Mac. I promise."

* * *

The End

* * *

13 September 2007


End file.
